Rebel Fay

Chapter Nineteen

Midafternoon on the second day, Magiere ripped aside the elm's doorway curtain at the sound of running feet. "Leesil?"

Six anmaglahk stood outside, with Osha in the front, but there was no sign of Leesil or Sgaile.

"Is time," Osha said in his thick accent.

"Where's Leesil?" she asked. "How can the elves resume proceedings without Sgaile?"

"You come," he urged.

Wynn threw on Chane's cloak asChap rose, and they followed Magiere out.

The guards flanked them as they hurried through Crijheaiche to the council clearing. Again Magiere grew uneasy as she stepped between the bridge-branched oaks and the closest onlookers backed out of her way. She took a slow calming breath at the sight of Leesil and Sgaile standing with Brot'an behind the oak table.

Leesil held his hand out. Magiere hurried down the slope. One anmaglahk almost grabbed for her, but Osha waved him off.

Faint dark rings surrounded Leesil's eyes, but he smiled at her. His muslin shirt and cloak were damp and smudged. He and Sgaile had returned in half the time Brot'an had asked for, so likely they had pushed on all night. Their gear was piled beneath the table, but Leesil's punching blades rested on the surface-along with something hidden by a shimmering piece of white cloth.

"What are the blades for?" she asked.

Leesil shook his head. "They were here when I arrived. Brot'an must have sent for them."

Brot'an's hard glare told them both to be silent.

Across the clearing's depression, Freth and Most Aged Father entered as before, his chair carried by four anmaglahk. As he was placed beside Freth's table, the old elf leaned forward and peered toward Leesil and Sgaile.

Wynn stepped in close to Magiere, ready to translate.

Sgaile looked as worn as Leesil as he stepped to the clearing's center. His hair was a mess, streaming down around his pointed ears in a white-blond tangle. He called out, "The review of the claim will continue. Advocate for the accused may proceed."

Brot'an stepped out as Sgaile backed away, and the crowd fell silent in anticipation. Magiere watched the faces around the clearing, and when she reached Gleann, he lifted his chin to her with a wry, subtle smile.

"I call on Osha of the Alachben," Brot'an said.

Wynn whispered in Magiere's ear, " Osha of the Rock-Hills clan."

Osha approached, and Brot'an lifted Leesil's winged blades, still in their sheaths. He drew one, raised it for all to see, and then turned to Osha.

"Can you tell us what this is?" he asked.

"It is one of Leshil's weapons," Osha answered quietly.

Brot'an cocked his head toward those of the gathering. Osha cleared his throat and repeated with stronger voice.

"Unique blades," Brot'an continued. "Do you know where he found them?"

"I believe he designedthese himself," Osha answered.

"And what are these used for?"

"To destroy undead, or so he said… by taking their heads."

"Irrelevant!" Freth shouted. "Leshil is not accused and these weapons have no bearing on the claim in dispute. The accused's advocate will keep to relevant testimony."

"Relevance will be addressed," Brot'an replied calmly. "If the opposingadvocate will refrain from further interruptions. As Sgailsheilleache is not permitted to witness for either side, I have turned to another in this matter."

Magiere followed Brot'an's seeking look toward Sgaile.

"Objection noted and rejected," Sgaile proclaimed. "But the accused's advocate will be expedient in making this line of questioning relevant."

As Wynn translated, Magiere wondered about the proceeding's rules. Brot'an seemed to have some freedom in questioning, but she wasn't certain why he was concentrating on Leesil's weapons. It seemed that Sgaile's limitations as adjudicator now worked against Brot'an, for Sgaile was the most familiar of all with Leesil and herself. Sgaile had been present in Bela when they hunted undead in its streets and sewers.

Freth whispered in Most Aged Father's ear. He glowered but kept silent.

Brot'an turned back to Osha. "How did you learn the use of these weapons?"

"Leshil told me and the others who escorted him to Crijheaiche."

"Did he work alone?"

"No, he said Magiere and the majay-hi"-he pointed to Chap-"hunted with him. Destroying undead was their vocation."

Brief and broken murmurs sifted through the crowd. Magiere remained tall and straight, with crossed arms, and tried not to meet anyone's eyes.

Brot'an held both his arms wide. "Her vocation was to destroy the undead. And why would one so-claimed undead"-he turned toward Most Aged Father-"hunt its own kind?"

"Hearsay!" Freth shouted. "And conjecture. Your opening statements are concluded. Keep to the presentation of what is verifiable… or be done!"

Sgaile cut in before Brot'an could reply. "Objection upheld. What was heard by the witness from another is not direct testimony unless the original speaker is not present."

"A valid point," Brot'an replied. "Then let us hear it directly… I call Leshil as witness."

"He is not one of us," Freth shouted. "He is notan'Croan and may not speak before the council."

Brot'an paced back to his table. He ripped aside the shimmering cloth, and lifted what hid there into plain sight.

It was a smooth branch, glistening bare of bark.

"Once again, you presume to speak for the ancestors," Brot'an called to Freth. "And yet here is a branch from Roise Charmune. How is he not one of us… if he was given this?" He pointed the glistening branch at Sgaile. "I call upon the ajudicator to confirm."

Sgaile nodded slowly. "In my presence… the ancestors gave it freely to Leshil."

"They gave it to him directly?" Brot'an asked. "He did not procure it with their implied blessing?"

The hiss of whispered voices surrounded the clearing. Magiere looked down at Wynn in confusion, but the sage only translated the words and shook her head, looking about with uncertain worry on her round face.

"Yes," Sgaile finally answered. "They appeared to Leshil and one gave him the branch of Roise Charmune."

Brot'an and Sgaile were the only ones who didn't look stunned. Murmurs among the elders and clans grew until the noise drowned Sgaile's shouts for silence. Across the field, Freth stood silent. She looked back at Most Aged Father, but the old man only stared at Leesil. Even his spite was masked in surprise.

Leesil scowled with his eyes on the ground.

Magiere was so lost. If Leesil had the branch, why had Brot'an waited to reveal it like this? It seemed one more trick he played on his patriarch, perhaps to keep Freth and the old man off balance. Magiere wished she could risk asking Leesil questions in the middle of all this.

"Not enough," Freth called, though it lacked her usual sharp conviction. "Even among our own, only those who've taken their full place as one of us can speak before the elders when in council."

"Another true point," Brot'an answered, and Freth looked wary, as if she'd stepped into a trap. "Blood is not enough. A name is needed to bean'Croan… to be recognized as one of us."

"Leshil does not have…" Freth began, but the last of her words had no voice and were only marked by the movement of her lips.

"He does," Brot'an answered, and turned upon Leesil. "Speak your true name for all to hear and recognize your rights."

Magiere looked at Leesil.

"It doesn't mean anything," he whispered to her. "Whatever it takes to get you out of here… I don't care what they believe."

"The witness will refrain from speaking," Sgaile called loudly."Except as directed by the council, an advocate, or the adjudicator."

Magiere wanted to grab Leesil and make him tell her what had happened.

Leesil took a long breath. "Leshi… Le… shi-air…" He sighed in frustration. "I can't pronounce it."

Sgaile frowned, the tan lines of his face creasing, and he shouted out,

"Leshiarelaohk!And it was not chosen by him… it was given by the ancestors themselves."

All sound in the clearing faded instantly. Then a low thrum of voices grew and erupted into a deafening chaos.

Magiere spotted Gleann leaning forward upon his small stool. He was silent, staring down to the field at Leesil. But unlike the shocked disbelief or outrage of others, his expression was eager-and even excited.

Leanalham stood behind him with confusion on her young face. She touched Gleann on the shoulder, whispering in his ear. He reached up and patted her hand with a satisfied smile but said nothing in return.

Whatever the name meant either it wasn't clear or the meaning had raised disturbing questions among the council. Or maybe it was that Leesil had acquired any name at all. Magiere looked to Wynn for help.

The little sage wrinkled her nose and then whispered, "Something about 'grief' and… maybe 'tear'? I cannot fully decipher. Its construction seems older than even the dialect spoken here."

Brot'an stood erect with the branch gripped at his side, ardent and determined pride in his eyes as he looked upon Leesil. Clearly he knew what the name meant and it pleased him. This worried Magiere most of all.

He raised the branch, turning before the crowd, until the gathering's noise settled enough for him to be heard.

"Tell us of what happened on hallowed ground," Brot'an said to Leesil.

Freth offered no further objection.

Leesil recounted briefly, and Brot'an translated for the gathering.

Not all of it made sense to Magiere. Leesil was reluctant and spoke simply, like the times she caught him in some foolishness and forced him to confess. By her guess, he wasn't telling everything. But he offered enough to bring all voices to full silence as the elders and others listened in rapt attention.

"And what is the use of your weapons?" Brot'an asked. "How does this use relate to the accused?"

Leesil spoke more forcefully this time, expanding upon Osha’s earlier answers. He even told of their first encounter with Sgaile in Bela, and of Chap's own part in their efforts to hunt undead. The crowd listened with interest.

"Now the people may question the truth of these words," Brot'an said. "Do the elders question the naming of…Leshiarelaohk?"

His gaze slipped to Freth and Most Aged Father. Neither said a word, though Freth seethed visibly in frustration.

"The ancestors granted Leshiarelaohk's request." Brot'an lifted the branch once more. "Magiere, come forward. You may bring your translator."

She tried not to hesitate as she stepped out, and Wynn came with her, a little more cautious.

"If the accused is truly undead," Brot'an called out, "no tricks or arcane practice will serve her. This branch, gifted by the ancestors from Roise Char-mune, is their bond to our land by which no enemy of the life here could walk our forest."

He held the branch out to Magiere.

She stood frozen. Inside, she trembled-not just from the affliction the forest had pressed upon her. What if the branch did something to mark her as an undead after all? Or worse, what if it drained of all remaining life at her touch?

Magiere couldn't breathe. She reached out and grasped the branch in her bare hand.

It felt smooth but not slick or wet, as it appeared to be. At first it was cool, even cold, then it warmed gently in her grip. It felt alive, and her panic sharpened.

For some reason, her eyes met and held Sgaile's. She waited for the wooden symbol to wither or to burn her… or something.

Nothing happened.

"If she were undead," Brot'an called out, "this could not happen. Not one sign of rejection. No strike against her flesh by the ancestors through the very emblem of our land and bloodline of old."

Magiere began to breathe again. Brot'an walked an arc around her and around the clearing as he spoke.

"She is unusual, yes, perhaps as suited to her calling. In battle, she appears fierce… even predatory, as some have said, and I have seen this myself more than once. But the ancestors have not marked her as a threat to us. Whatever issues some might take with her, the current claim is false."

Brot'an waved Magiere and Wynn back to the oak table.

"I rest for now," he said, "and yield to the address of the accuser's advocate."

Magiere approached the table, watching Leesil. He reached out and grasped her pale hand. She quickly dropped the branch on the table and turned to look across the field.

Freth remained by her table, locked in uncertainty, but Most Aged Father didn't look shaken a bit by Brot'an's presentation. Magiere quivered inside, wondering what the old man would try next.

Wynn leaned in close between Magiere and Leesil, translating quietly for them.

Freth strode to the clearing's center, wasting no time as she addressed the gathering in a clear, light voice.

"The accused's advocate has not addressed all possibilities. This human does not merely 'appear' fierce in battle. Her body takes on more literal attributes… by which she turned upon the living around her. We accept the testimonies presented so far without challenge, but even her companions do not fully understand her nature."

Wynn detected the slight falterings in Frethfare's voice.

Not uncertainty, but more like a speech too quickly memorized, repetitious and glib. Wynn studied Most Aged Father, wondering if Freth served as his advocate or just his mouthpiece.

Freth strode back to her table and flicked a summoning hand at the crowd behind her. En’nish pushed into view through a cluster of Anmaglahk and came downslope with something cupped in her hands. Freth took it and proceeded across the clearing. As she approached Brot'an's table, Wynn saw a sacred white flower in Freth's hand.The same as the one that Sgaile had warned her not to touch.

White velvet petals shaped like leaves gathered the sunlight that struck them and returned it in a soft glow. The base and stem of the flower were a dark green, close to black.

"We saw some of those on our way here," Leesil whispered.

Freth held it up for the clan elders to see.

"Anasgiah-the Life Shield. Prepared by a healer in tea or food, it sustains the dying, so they might yet be saved from death. It is vibrant with life itself, and feeds the life of those who need it most."

Anxiety grew in Wynn's stomach. By all she had heard, the ancestors were thought to weigh and render judgment according toan'Croan needs. This flower was an inert thing, void of such intelligent consideration-whatever its use might be in these proceedings.

"The accused will come out," Freth ordered.

Magiere approached in an echo of Freth's own self-confidence. Wynn trotted after, uncertain if protocol allowed it, but no one stopped her.

Without warning, Freth slapped the white petals across Magiere's face.

Wynn gasped as Leesil tried to rush out. Brot'an pulled him back and then walked up behind Magiere.

"What is the meaning of this?" Brot'an demanded, as Sgaile moved quickly to join them.

Wynn grabbed hold of Magiere's arm, fearful of what she might do in return.

Magiere barely flinched, but her dark eyes locked on Freth's amber ones. Then she began to shake uncontrollably. Freth watched her with a startled satisfaction.

Wynn wrapped her arm around Magiere's waist. Freth raised the flower for all to see.

The white petals darkened.First to dull yellow, and then ashen tan as they withered. The flower died in Freth's hand, and crumpled petals fell away to float to the ground.

Rumbling grew among the gathering. The shrill voices of the Aruin'nas shouted above all.

"Only an undead could cause this!" Freth cried. "Anasgiah's potency is such that an undead does not have to consume the petals to consume what it offers. For that is what an undead truly feeds upon-life!"

In horror, Wynn craned her head around up at Brot'an.

His face was tight and hard, but he was caught as unaware as anyone else by this trick Freth played. At the field's far end, Most Aged Father watched with ardent eyes, and the barest smile stretched his shriveled mouth.

Wynn tried to force calm as she held on to Magiere, but she found none. Freth could know little more of the undead than anyone present. She could not have known how the flower would react to Magiere. This was Most Aged Father's doing.

The old one's test challenged Brot'an's-perhaps even canceled it out.

Brot'an motioned Magiere and Wynn to return to his table. Wynn walked Magiere back, steadying her until she grabbed the table's edge. Sgaile had to shout for silence again, but one of the Aruin'nas elders rose to his feet, screaming back at Sgaile in his strange tongue.

"Do not throw another demand upon these proceedings!" Sgaile replied. "No vote has been called. You will hold for deliberation."

The short old one spit one more vicious utterance. Sgaile did not answer, and stood waiting until the Aruin'nas elder settled cross-legged upon the depression's edge.

Freth stalked back to her table as the crowd's rumble settled. She removed three stilettos and a shining garrote wire from her sleeves and belt and dropped them all upon the table.

Most Aged Father did not look at her. His ardent satisfaction remained focused across the clearing upon Magiere.

"Brot'an'duive sought the ancestors' judgment," Freth cried out. "I do so as well. But words and tests will not settle this. I disarm and call for trial by combat. Let the ancestors guide my limbs in the old ways. Let them decide who speaks the truth."

The gathering's murmurs rose into a cacophony. Most Aged Father sat back in his chair, milky eyes glittering.

"Confer!" Brot'an shouted.

Sgaile nodded in discomfort and barely contained his distaste as he looked at Freth.

Brot'an turned to Magiere as Wynn hurried to catch up in translating. She faltered and staggered as Chap shoved in beside her.

"What's happening?" Leesil asked.

"Old ways," Brot'an sighed."All but forgotten. When a dispute cannot be settled through deliberation, trial by combat may be called, though it has never been sought in my lifetime. And it must be sanctioned by the elders. The victor must put the opponent down, or the opponent must verbally yield. It is believed that the ancestors support the victor's truth."

"That is not all she wants," Wynn said. "She goads Magiere into revealing her nature. Freth wants them all to see Magiere transform, and if she cannot defeat Freth without calling upon her inner nature…"

Either way, Magiere could lose, and she was still shaking.

Magiere's eyes shifted back and forth. "Imight… might control it long enough… still win…"

"No," Leesil snapped. "You're not going out there!"

Magiere was barely able to speak between shudders, and Wynn knew she could not hold her dhampir half inside if a fight ensued. In Nein'a's clearing, Magiere had lost herself in this same shaken state.

"Most Aged Father told Freth to do this," Wynn said. "She reported everything she saw in Nein'a's clearing, but only he would know how the flower would affect Magiere."

Brot'an turned hard eyes on Wynn, likely wondering how she knew this, but she gave him no chance to question her as she rushed on.

"He knows Magiere may not be able to hold back. The instant she succumbs, she will be finished. This has nothing to do with Freth putting the outcome in the hands of her ancestors."

Magiere leaned back, half-sitting on the table's edge, and closed her arms tightly about herself. All Leesil could do was stand before her, holding her steady by the shoulders.

"A vote must still be taken," Brot'an said.

He pushed off the table and headed toward Sgaile. Freth joined them. An unknown anmaglahk came out as well and handed Sgaile two small baskets.

"Let us hope the vote fails," Wynn whispered as Leesil turned to watch.

"A vote on challenge is called!" Sgaile shouted.

It started slowly at first. Wynn saw stones being tossed by the elders. Black or white, they tumbled downslope or arched directly to the clearings floor. Gleann's black one cleared the slope completely and thumped upon the turf. He gave her a smile, and Wynn understood.

Black to decline, and white in favor of combat.

Wynn did not need to look to know what color the Aruin'nas elder threw.

Brot'an and Freth followed as Sgaile gathered and separated the stones into the two baskets. They returned to the clearing's side, where he poured them into two piles. Both appeared equal. He began counting.

Before he shouted the results, Brot'an already headed back toward Wynn. Chap growled beside her.

"Trial by combat has been granted," Sgaile called.

Brot'an began pulling stilettos and blades from his wrist sheaths and boots, slapping them on the oak table.

"What are you doing?" Wynn asked.

He ignored her and turned to face the field. "I call the right of proxy, as the accused's advocate."

Halfway to her own table, Freth spun about. Even from the distance, Wynn saw her eyes widen.

"No!" Most Aged Father screeched. "That would prove nothing! The human is an abomination, and you would challenge your own caste for her sake?"

Wynn grew dizzy, trying to translate amid the noise rising from the onlookers and still follow all that was happening. Nausea surged in her stomach under Chap's leaf-wing voice.

Too quick a denial! He is eager for this.

She looked down to find Chap with ears flattened, glaring across the field at Most Aged Father.

For all the old elf's accusations, and his attempt to deny Brot'an, the An-maglahk patriarch appeared to quiver with anticipation. Chap spoke again in Wynn's head.

Brot'an's intercession fuels the old one. He sees opportunity… he wants Brot'an to fight.

Most Aged Father tried to stand and failed, slumping into his chair. He lifted his frail face to all those around the clearing.

"Do you see what this thing has wrought? She has poisoned us and driven our own people to violence against each other!"

Brot'an turned to Sgaile. "By law, this is my right."

Sgaile was slow to respond. He said something Wynn could not hear over the crowd. But his answer was clearly a confirmation to Brot'an, and he hung his head.

Wynn did not know Sgaile well, but she knew where his loyalties lay. The last thing he would want was for his own caste to turn upon itself.

This is no longer just about Magiere, Chap said.

Wynn saw Most Aged Father's shouted denial for what it was-a calculated misdirection. If Brot'an won, it would shake his own caste's faith in him and might even lead to claims that he sided with enemies of the people. If he lost, though that seemed so unlikely, all that remained was the council's final judgment for what to do with Magiere. Either way, Most Aged Father would have his way in some part.

Wynn could do nothing but wait and watch.

Brot'an stood relaxed but erect upon the clearing's turf as he looked to Freth.

"Whenever you are ready."

Chap knew Brot'an grasped for the only option he had left, but Most Aged Father spoke one truth. At any violence among the elves, Magiere would be seen as the cause. Even if found innocent in Brot'an's victory, it would only settle the immediate claim. In the end, it would weigh against all three of Chap's charges when it was time for the council to consider the human interlopers in their land.

He did not care what the Anmaglahk did to each other, but he would not allow Magiere to be used anymore.

Chap bolted across the clearing, not caring about any attention he called.

"What are you doing?" Wynn shouted after him.

There was no time for explanations. He raced for the clearing's far slope and lunged up the incline straight at Gleann and his clan.

The old healer's jaw dropped halfway open. Chap let out a snarl. It was the only way, the safest place, to break through. Only Leanalham stood transfixed with fright. Before Chap had to swerve to get around the girl, Gleann jerked her aside. The rest of his kinsman scrambled out of Chap's path.

He shot through to the open forest beyond.

Even his own presence as a majay-hi no longer counted for Magiere. He had felt the doubt and suspicion behind those who watched him from around the clearing. They saw a puzzle they could not unravel in a majay-hi who kept company with humans, and most believed that he was wrong-deviant and twisted by a life no majay-hi would choose.

They did not know how close to the truth they were-for all the wrong reasons.

If the Anmaglahk and the elders wanted battle to find truth, he would give them one.

Chap cut through brush and trees, until he broke into a wide alley created by a deep brook. He leaped up a smooth boulder overhanging the rippling water. In the distance behind him, he heard the crowd in the clearing.

Their sounds drowned from Chap's ears as he ripped the forest's peace with a howl.

Sgaile felt as if his heart would rupture. He no longer knew what was right or wrong. He knew only the ways of his caste and of his people. He had followed both with such devotion and conscience. But since the humans' arrival, one had been continually pitted against the other.Now two of his own turned on each other over an outsider.

Brot'an'duive and Frethfare.Greimasg'ah and elder of caste against Most Aged Father's chosen Covarleasa. Two of the caste's most honored.

At its worst-if neither yielded-one would die.

Brot'an'duive had right of proxy for Magiere, and Sgaile could not help but agree with his decision. It was proper, for what he saw of the woman's sudden failing condition. He did not understand why the healing Anasgiah had done this to her, nor did he care for the manner in which it was done.

Frethfare's only goal appeared to be forcing Magiere to transform before the gathering. Perhaps they should see this. Perhaps Frethfare was not wrong either.

Sgaile's mind spun as Brot'an'duive stood waiting upon Frethfare's response.

And then Chap raced away across the clearing and through the crowd.

That instant of distraction left Sgaile up repared. Every muscle in his body clenched as Frethfare rushed at Brot'an'duive.

All Sgaile could do was wait for one to yield-or one to die.

Leesil stood speechless as Chap vanished through the crowd. Then Freth struck out at Brot'an.

Her palm strike never landed. Brot'an spun away low with a sweep of his leg. Freth hopped back into a crouch. Before her feet touched earth, Brot'an was already up.

Leesil only cared that Brot'an won. That hope didn't even grate upon him in this moment.

Brot'an didn't close on Freth but stood his ground, waiting as she circled. When she charged again, even Leesil was startled. It all happened before he could blink.

Freth's lunging foot slid forward along the ground. Brot'an took a wide step left, and upon the twist of his torso, drove his right fist for her face.

She hit the ground in a hurdlers straddle, and Brot'an's strike passed over her head. She struck out for Brot'an's bent knee with her momentum. He shifted quickly into his other leg, but the change put him into Freth's path. She pushed off with her rear cocked leg and shot upward for his abdomen with straightened fingers.

Brot'an twisted away, dropping to his back, as Freth rose into her forward leg. She speared her hand downward at his exposed throat.

Leesil felt Magiere's hand close tight on his arm.

Sgaile took two quick steps forward before stopping.

Brot'an pulled his head aside, and Freth's ridged fingers embedded in the clearing's earth.

"She's trying to kill him," Magiere hissed.

Leesil already knew this. Freth would know she couldn't win unless she threw everything she had at Brot'an. Or maybe there was more to this than just Magiere's life-maybe a way to get around their custom of not spilling the blood of their own.

Most Aged Father watched without the slightest flinch at the way Freth went after Brot'an. However it ended, Leesil feared that Magiere's fate would still be left dangling.

Brot'an swung his leg to the side, and the force rolled him over onto his face. As Freth pulled soiled fingers from the earth, Brot'an's second leg shot out into her chest.

It was almost the same move Leesil used himself when trying to catch an undead from below while on the ground. Sgaile had once called it by some strange name that meant "Cat in the Grass."

Freth wasn't fast enough to get out of the way.

Leesil heard the impact, and Freth's body arched.

Her feet left the ground as she shot backward, headfirst. Her shoulders hit the earth a dozen steps away. Impact and momentum whipped her legs over her head. Leesil thought for certain her neck would snap under the fast folding curl.

She flattened on the ground, facedown, and then pushed herself up and got to her feet. She didn't waver, but struggled quietly to regain her breath.

For all Brot'an's size and age, he was nearly as fast as Freth. And any slim advantage she might have in that wouldn't be enough to counter his experience.

"Yield," Brot'an demanded, circling around her.

A thin bloodied line marked the side of Brot'an's neck. Freth had grazed him with her fingernails.

"Why is he holding back?" Wynn whispered.

Leesil swallowed any response, as Freth went at Brot'an again.

Brot'an stamped hard against the earth with his right foot. An instant later he was turning fast in midair. His other leg whipped toward her at a downward angle.

His knee struck her forward arm, but his foot smashed her hip.

Freth toppled under the impact. Her lighter body didn't have the mass to endure it. She slammed down sideways into the ground and somehow managed to kick out. She caught Brot'an's other foot just before it settled to the earth.

Brot'an spun sideways in the air. As he fell, he flattened one hand against the ground, but he crumpled and his right shoulder struck. He rolled away into a crouch, shaking his head. Freth tottered as she got up, and then she stumbled to a halt as a howl echoed over the clearing.

Leesil looked about for the sound. The gathering broke into startled cries. Elves on the forest side of the clearing scattered downslope.

Chap lunged out through the crowd, tearing up sod as he charged straight at Brot'an and Freth.